Illusion of Happiness
by Hippodance
Summary: As the Monkees gain popularity, they also acquire a stalker. Weird things begin to occur but none of boys put the pieces together. And when they do begin to exchange stories of the odd happenings, the target of the obsession is unclear. As the foursome begin to feel pressure & paranoia, they lose trust in their friends & fans. The guys turn to one another for comfort.
1. Chapter 1

**1967: After Every Dark Storm, leaves a Void in Your Heart**

Exchanging nervous glances, Mike, Micky, Peter and Davy stand in the darkness waiting to step onto the stage. The moment they waited for all of their lives, just arrived. A sold out audience of 5,000, steps away.

The crowd's screams deafening. However, the noise is barely audible over the sound of their thumping hearts.

A Production Assistant motions two minutes to show time.

Each boy nods in acknowledgement.

Peter knows the nerves are more than just about the concert. It is anyone's guess if she would even come to the show. His stomach heavy as if he swallowed a wet mattress, he fidgets and pulls at the collar of his shirt releasing a loud uneven breath of air.

Davy places his hand on Peter's shoulder with a reassuring squeeze making him slightly jump. Peter shoots a broken smile at his friend. His friends understand the raw emotion running through him without exchanging a word. They're just as guilty as Peter, maybe even more so. Who knew so much damage could be possible in such a short amount of time or maybe that's just a cop out. Taking responsibility is a lot harder than denial of participation.

The Production Assistant signals the foursome with a gentle nudge towards the stage.

Micky breaks the silence with baited breath, "Well, this is it."

The quartet took the stage by storm scanning the audience with waves and smiles.

The crowd roared with anticipation. A sea of arms, reach towards them in hopes to touch a small piece of their heart's affection.

Mike takes his place onstage with his blonde Gretsch and an unspoken reflection of the past fifteen months, 'This anomaly…Life…It's all just a show, after all. Success is the magician and happiness, its illusion.'

Damning words to describe the band's personal baggage.

Micky clapped his sticks together with the count off pulling Mike out of his daze. It was show time and what a show it will be.


	2. Chapter 2

**15 Months Earlier: A Beginning without a definitive birth**

The quartet's career is just beginning to heat up. The boys recently turned down a gig because there just wasn't enough time in their schedule. It's a first time luxury for all of them. To be able to pay bills, rent and actually have money in the bank, gave a glimmer of hope into their future.

Mike lost in his thoughts, re-grips the steering wheel trying to focus his unfocused and weary eyes. Releasing a verbal sigh, a smile spreads across his lips as the Monkeemobile cruises past the 'Welcome to Malibu Beach' road sign. This, without a doubt, marks the end of the ROAD TRIP FROM HELL. His eyes widen as he glances into the rear view mirror at the not so innocent sleeping faces of his band mates. Mike loves his friends but being cooped up for three weeks in a car playing back-to-back gigs up and down the California coast? Yup…that is a whole different rodeo. He now understands why most horror films start with a long road trip. Between Micky's wild antics, Davy's insidious whining and Peter…just being Peter, it's enough to turn Mother Teresa into a card-carrying ax murderer.

All of the events of the past three weeks begin to loop in Mike's head, the laughter, the camaraderie, the music, the need to strangle the three of them after they filled his boots with banana pudding. With that memory, he scrunches his face into an evil grimace and subconsciously accelerates towards a series of potholes for one final payback. The last pit impressively sends the car slightly airborne, with a not so gentle landing. Mike quickly snaps out of his dream like state after hearing a series of straining groans from the passengers and instruments bouncing in the back seats.

"UGH…WHAT THE..?" the agitated passengers bellow from behind him.

Mike couldn't stop the satisfying smirk that took over his lips. "Oops! Pot hole!"

"Err, are we there yet?" whines Davy with a yawn and a stretch.

"If you ask that question one more…" he stops mid sentence then continues, "DON'T make me pull this car over. You can walk home." Mike coils out one last threat. Knowing good and well it was an empty threat as the car's occupants realize the vehicle is only about a 2,000 feet from their front door.

The Monkeemobile pulls into the drive of 1334 North Beachwood Blvd. Home at last. The beaten up beach house never looked so inviting after weeks away.

The thought of crashing into a soft bed takes over any other immediate need.

The front door creaks open to darkness. Micky slides his hand up the wall and flips on the lights. The sight makes the quartet jump back with a slight gasp. Mr. Schneider innocently sits in an armchair a few feet from the front door.

"Bloody Hell!" blasts Davy "Which one of you left Mr. Schneider in the middle of the floor to scare us or any nutter that may waltz through the door? This…this…not funny. Not funny at all."

They exchange looks of denial.

"Didn't we all walk out of the pad at the same time?" Peter adding to the confusion.

The three shot Peter a look of death making him slink back a few feet feeling sorry that he even brought it up.

"Well one of you obviously has a warped board sense of humor." Mike accuses with conviction.

"One of us?" Micky defensive, "Humph!" He pushes through the door dumping his bag to the side.

The foursome take another glance at Mr. Schneider perched in the chair with his arms crossed like an angry mother-in-law left behind to stew.

"I'm too tired for this crap. Let's unload the car so we can get to bed." Mike rolls his eyes, "Hey, Pete, can you move Mr. Schneider out of the way so we can bring in the equipment?"

Peter reluctantly grabs the over-sized dummy and plops him back on his designated stool in the corner. He steps away as if Mr. Schneider is possessed and planning their deaths for abandoning him. He leans back in and whispers, "How did you move across the room?"

Suddenly, Peter felt a hand on his shoulder pulling him backwards. "Mate, I don't think he's going to answer you." Davy turns him toward the door, "A little assistance would be nice." Peter flushes red from embarrassment.

"Okay…" as his words quietly fell away, inaudible at best.

The quartet unpacks the final load out of the Monkeemobile a little before 2am. The instruments and equipment sprawl across the living room with little order in mind. None of them have the energy to do more than the bare minimal tonight.

Micky and Davy say their good nights before retiring to their room downstairs. Peter and Mike begin to climb the stairs to the their bedroom. A blood curdling "OH MY GOD!" halts their ascent, making the duo back track their steps.

"WHAT? What happened?" Mike and Peter share the concern.

"Look at the disaster!" Davy blew steam, "Could you be a bigger slob Micky? You couldn't have straightened this mess before you left on tour?"

Peter and Mike exchange amusing glances, raising their eyebrows. They slip slowly backwards away from the pending roommate smack down. It is best to allow them to settle the mess without input from the two.

The climb back up the tornado steps seem to take about two or three days. The boys fell face first into their respective beds, both asleep before the bed stop bouncing from impact.

Exhaustion fills the musician's bodies into a dreamless state

Within thirty minutes of the last sound uttered, a figure slowly steps out of the closet. Each of the weary travelers unaware of the shadowy presence watching over them sleep. An unfamiliar hand reaches out and strokes the hair out of the sleeping face she so adored from afar. 'Some day my love we will be together and no one will stop the love we are destined to share.' Boldly, she bends over and kisses man's temple. He shifts slightly burying his face deeper into the pillow beneath his sleeping head.

She moves to the dresser. Quietly pulling open the third drawer. The figure rummages until she finds a shirt that fulfills her desire. She slips out of her blouse and slides the tee over her head pulling it over her breasts. She could smell his scent on the shirt and it made her wet at with thought of his body touching hers. The girl licks her lips sliding her hands over her breasts and rubs her crotch with excitement. She bites her lip and tip-toes out of the room tossing her blouse into their dirty laundry hamper.

The unknown nuisance stops short before the back door. She leans over to Mr. Schneider placing a peck on his cheek, "Now you take care of my baby for me, okay?" The door closed with a soft click. Mr. Schneider falls off his chair with a loud clunk.

The quartet of musicians continue to slumber without an inkling that life is about to go from zero to shit in record time.


	3. Chapter 3

**March 1966**

**Everything simmers before it boils**

The strong afternoon sunlight beams into the windows of the Malibu beach house. Davy stirs from the sun's warmth. He smiles. Nothing feels better than uninterrupted sleep. Davy yawns and stretches his body with a groan of relief.

A few moments after he hears his roommate stirring, Micky glances at the alarm clock, "We slept eleven hours." The lanky boy sits up and rubs his face, "I wonder if Mike and Peter are up?" As if this question was a cue in a movie, a soft rap vibrates the door.

Mike pokes in through the opening, "Ya'll awake?"

"Physically? Yes. Mentally? Give us another 30 minutes and a vat of coffee. Oh, and a neck massage, if time permits." Micky gives a smug grin.

Mike plays along and tosses back a little sarcasm, "Would you like me to serve you in bed, your majesty or will you grace us at the breakfast table with your royal ass?"

"Wow, all this time and I didn't know you serve breakfast in bed. Glad to know I have options, Mike." Micky gives a hardy laugh and Davy tosses a pillow at Micky.

Mike rolls his eyes, "I dare you to make such a request. You'll find eggs under your covers." And without warning, the stately man leaves the room as quickly as he entered.

Davy glances at Micky, "Mike definitely got enough sleep. He is in full form."

Micky stops laughing and agrees that was not an idle threat.

The duo joins their friends at the table. Peter notices Mr. Schneider lying on the floor, "Can't you sit still Mr. Schneider?"

"You really need therapy Petah." As Davy helps Peter lift the life size dummy back onto to the stool, Peter sticks out his tongue to Davy's insult.

Peter admits to several slow moments but is far from stupid. He cannot stop wondering how Mr. Schneider could shift to the middle of the room last night and then to the floor this morning. Their resident dummy sits in the corner watching over the comings and goings of the beach house for several years without one strange occurrence. Why now? Why won't his friends admit to moving him? What if it isn't the guys? A creepy thought indeed. In no way does he want to live with a possessed dummy.

"Okay Pete?...Pete? I said, okay?" Mike jerks him back into the breakfast conversation.

"Huh?"

"Welcome back Peter. Did you have a nice trip to la la land?" Micky teases.

"Sorry. I, just….What?"

The guys shake their heads in amusement. "We should unpack the equipment and take a run to April's Laundry. Pick up food at the market." Mike repeats himself for Peter's benefit.

"Ahh…sure." Peter nods in agreement.

As the boys finish cleaning their brunch dishes, the phone rings.

"I got it. It's probably the lovely but shy Claire." Davy wiggles his eyebrows up and down. "'Ello?... 'Ello? Claire? Anyone?" The phone clicks dead.

Davy shakes his head, "I guess it's a wrong dial."

A clap of hands, "Well the faster we unload the equipment and run errands, the sooner we can mellow out." Mike moves to the middle of the disaster in the living room deciding on where to begin.

The boys quickly unpack and set up their instruments and equipment in their usual spots. Each stopping at various times to admire the gorgeous weather and the local bikini volleyball league practicing down the beach.

Mike drags the empty instrument and equipment cases to the hall closet. He opens the door only to notice a blanket and personal mementoes scattered on the floor. 'The guys must have knocked the knick-knacks off of the shelf while pulling the cases out.' he thought. After cleaning up the items and folding the blanket neatly, Mike stacks the bins and shut the door behind him.

The phone begins to ring. Mike reaches for the receiver but Davy snatches it up. Mike shrugs and keeps walking "'Ello? This is Davy speaking…'ello? Uh, hello? Anyone there?" The phone, once again, goes dead.

"You know. Don't take this personally but I don't think lovely Claire wants to speak to you." Micky taunts.

Peter snorts out a laugh, "Well, she is shy."

"Funny. You two are a barrel of lau…" Davy begins.

"Monkeys?" Mike finishes Davy's insult with a snicker.

"Shut it!" as Davy and the guys fall into a laughing fit.

A knock on their front door interrupts the friends' insult fest. "I got it" Micky reaches for the door.

Micky opens it to a familiar face. "Phaedra." He reaches his arms around her torso to pull her close to him. "How are you?"

"Hiya, sunshine. Miss me?" asks the smiling girl.

"ALWAYS!" as the thin lanky man squeezes her tighter.

The remaining friends snatch the fun-size blonde away from Micky's clutches to give their close friend hugs and kisses. She feels like home to each of them. The guys met the devoted friend shortly after forming the band. She not only supports the band, Phaedra shares a unique bond with each member. Through the years, she mended their broken hearts and listened to their hopes and fears. It's bitter sweet, though. As Phaedra watches her friends becoming more successful, the less she sees of the quartet. As hard as it is to admit, the distancing hurt.

"So, how did the tour go? Any industry attend to the shows?" she inquires.

The funny thing about Phaedra, she never really cares to hear about their personal conquests. Women throw themselves at the boys on a regular basis and it's her job to keep them safe, giving her a great sense of pride to ward off the pushy groupies. No doubt, she loves her shaggy topped men.

"If industry came, they ain't approach us with any offers." Mike sound defeated. Phaedra reaches for his hand and gives it a gentle squeeze and whispers, "It'll happen. I promise." The girl's eyes reveal her true faith in their talent. Mike shoots a half smile back to her.

Phaedra could always talk Mike down from anger or sadness. An amazing trait the other men long admired.

The moment broke as the phone begins to ring. Mike grumbles, "This better not be another lovely but shy Claire hang up."

"Huh? Did Claire break up with you?" she gives a blank look at Davy.

Davy gulped, "No. At least I hope not." Phaedra's face scrunches up in confusion.

Mike stops the ringing vessel, "Hello?...Yes, this is Mike Nesmith…Oh hi, yes... Good. Thanks..." He proceed with small talk and few more yeses and noes. After a few minutes, Mike plops the receiver back into the cradle and turns to face the anxious group. "Guess who's playing the Groovy Zoo?" Excitement erupts.

'Maybe this explains the odd hang-ups. The manager, CJ, probably tried calling and for some reason experienced connection issues or was interrupted. Yup. It makes sense. Sure.' Mike half-heartedly accepts his own justification.

"ALRIGHT!" they chant breaking Mike's rhyme and reasoning. In the enthusiasm, Peter wraps his arms around Phaedra and swings her around. She smiles up at him and puts her hand on his cheek. He is taken back when his dick twitches from her touch. Peter never felt that happen before. He steps back as Micky wraps his arms around her from behind and kisses her cheek as Davy bounces around them.

The Monkees never played at the Groovy Zoo. They almost filled in for a band that canceled last minute, but to their disappointment, it fell through. The quartet knew this could lead to a string of steady gigs in a great venue. The club often attracts big name promoters and celebs. This indeed is a great opportunity.

Mike breaks his friends' high. "We'll celebrate tonight. But first, laundry and the marketing awaits."

The guys protest in unison. Peter gently pulls Mike to the side, "Do you mind if I stay here? I kind of need to talk to Phaedra about something."

Mike shrugs. "I think we can manage without your expert laundering skills."

"Thanks."

Micky and Davy sling the bags of laundry over their backs and move to the door. "See 'ya later beautiful." Micky winks at Phaedra. Davy and Mike give a wave good-bye.

"Bye guys. Talk to you later."

The door closed behind his friends. Peter could hear the Monkeemobile pull out of the drive. The sandy blonde plops down on the sofa and Phaedra sits next to him. She tucks her legs underneath her body to face Peter. "You look like you need to talk." Her interest piques, "Did someone break your heart? Because I have no problems hunting down the little troll and beating her with a tacky hair piece."

Peter fills with warmth at the humorous remark. 'Wow. When she smiles, her face illuminates. How did I not notice this before? I must be blind and stupid. I wonder if she feels...No, I'm just a friend. Plain 'ol reliable Peter.'

"Peter?" she interrupts his gaping look, "Are you alright?"

"Yes…No…I don't know. Do you ever experience unexplainable moments and you can't come up with an answer as to why or how it happened? Or even when it happened? It makes no rational sense." He rambles on, "And your head becomes consumed with the need for answers?"

Phaedra widens her eyes and gives the determined man a long empty stare.

Not sure whether he is speaking about Mr. Schneider, the telephone hang-ups or his feelings suddenly changing for the girl sitting an arm's length away, Peter continues, "I mean, there are reasons for everything, right?"

"Peter, you lost me the moment after I asked if you were alright." Phaedra reaches for Peter's hand gently massaging it. She sees his lips battling to come up with the right words.

Knowing the confusion he created, Peter shifts the conversation, "Did you move Mr. Schneider?"

She blinked a few times and shook her head. "Uh, what? Mr. Schneider? What does Mr. Schneider…Peter are you okay? You seem anxious. I worry about you."

"Really…Me?"

"Of course I do. " She squeezes his hand and pulls him into a hug. Peter returns the hug and rests his head on the available shoulder. The scent of Phaedra's perfume intoxicates the scattered boy.

"I feel like my life isn't my own. It's just weird right now. So much change. The guys seem to handle the pressure of all the gigs better than me. I sometimes feel left behind. All of the attention makes me want to run. But I don't know if I want to run towards the crowd or away from it." Peter airs his thoughts out loud for the first time.

"Peter, you will never be left behind. Mike, Davy and Micky are your brothers, your friends and your family. They love you. I love you." Phaedra kisses Peter's temple. Peter's adjusts his body trying to hide his ever growing hard on.

"Thanks. You always know how to brighten my day." He wants to say so much more but cannot muster up the nerve. After an eternity of quiet, Peter tries to lighten the conversation, "So, what about you? Anything exciting in the life of Phaedra?"

She releases a snort, "As exciting as always. I'm hunky dory. I am teaching extra classes at the dance studio. So now I am working six days a week instead of four. I hear giggling girls and tap dancing in my sleep. Slowly I'm losing my sanity. At least, I am making great money. I just have no social life whatsoever. Speaking of a lack of life, I need to get home because I am teaching tonight."

"I'll walk you home." Peter offers her a hand standing up. He lifts the petite girl off the couch. She stumbles into Peter's arms. The couple lock eyes for what feels like forever.

Phaedra lets out a small breath breaking the stare. Moving towards the door, Peter follows the girl out and down the stairs to the beach. The two barely speak as they stroll through the sand, their hands occasionally touching. Phaedra's thoughts spin back to the moment by the couch. She feels her body shiver. In all the years of friendship, the bassist never once hint of more than just a friendship. The feelings begin to heat the lower half of her body.

As the couple approaches the small bungalow, Peter nervously faces the attractive blonde, "Well…I guess I'll see you later?" Phaedra nods yes. "Sure. Let me know if you need to talk again, okay?" His arms embrace her body closing the gap between them. Their strong bodies press against one another. His cheek brushes against hers. Their lips dry from racing breaths. Peter closes his eyes as his lips graze against Phaedra's. She parts her lips giving him access. Their tongues barely touch before the kiss broke. The aroused girl places a hand on his chest and stares into his eyes, "See ya." Peter can only nod. The kiss sucked the words from his mouth making the man incapable of speech.

Peter watches the petite girl disappear into the house. By the time his heart stops racing, he finds himself back at the beach house. Peter climbs the stairs and enters the empty pad. His hard on grows unbearable with thoughts of the embrace and kiss. The frustrated man unzips and slides a hand over the hard member.

BANG! Peter jumps and scans the living room, "Mike, Micky, Davy, you home?" The anxious boy painfully zips up with a grunt. Another clunk echoes through the open house. Reluctantly, the man creeps towards the storage closet flinging open the door. Shelf contents lay on the floor. Peter takes a breath of relief. 'I guess Mike knocked the items over and they finally tipped off of the shelves.'

SLAM! Peter spins around jumping to sound of the three roommates.

"You alright?" Davy asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine." Peter shuts the cupboard door. "I think the lack of sleep makes me jumpy."

"Lack of sleep? You slept eleven hours. Any more, a doctor will diagnose you as comatose." Micky interjected.

Peter gave a slight chuckle.

"Well we have pizza and beer." Mike displays the contents of a celebratory dinner.

"I'm going to put away my laundry first" Mickey exits the room. A few moments later, the curly topped man returns holding up a woman's ruffled shirt. "Davy, is there something you need to share with the rest of us?"

"Hilarious, you are." Davy inspects the blouse. "I don't wear ruffles…girl ruffles." The trio fixates on Davy's explanation. "It must have mixed in with our clothes at Aprils. We can return it tomorrow."

Later that evening, the foursome kicked back to watch an old horror film starring Vincent Price ingesting pizza, beer and little weed. The combination brings on an early exhaustion.

Once the boys fell into a deep dream like state, a shadow rolls off of the closet shelf knocking over sheets and towels. She neatly rearranges them back into their proper place. Quietly strolling through the house moving items to her liking. The girl grabs her ruffled shirt and walks out of the back door leaving it wide open.

This game is beginning to be fun. Unfortunately no one knows the rules.


	4. Chapter 4

**April 1966**

**The Spinning Top Gains Momentum**

In the following few weeks, the odd occurrences not only continue, they get downright weird. In spite of it all, none of the guys show concern for the unexplainable. Each continued daily routines as always, rationalizing the events with blame. Micky is sure Davy left the back door open when he left the house the other day. Mike notices towels dumped on the closet floor, naturally assuming Micky knocked them off without replacing them on the shelf. Peter thinks Mike or Davy returned the ruffled shirt found in the laundry since it disappeared before he awoke that next morning. Davy blames Peter for leaving dirty dishes in the sink. To add to the building anxiety, the four boys notice items out of place. Lamps turned around, the contents of drawers switched, instruments adjusted and furniture nudged out of place which they caught with their shins and toes more than once.

Each of the boys attempt to not let the irritations consume their every thought, but the quartet finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the Groovy Zoo gig with the tensions simmering. Day after long day of non-stop rehearsals, all of it hit a head. In the middle of the practice, Mike abruptly stops playing and completely blows his top, "What in the hell are you doing Micky!? Can you please keep one steady rhythm? We've only played this song a thousand times! This ain't rocket science. None of us have time to babysit your attempts as a drummer."

Micky stands behind his drum kit ready to exchange blows as he throws his sticks into the air, "FUCK YOU! What about you Mike? You keep changing up every song, how is anyone expected to keep up?"

Peter drops his hands away from his bass and exchanges a heavy glance with Davy. The frustrated boy rolls his eyes. Peter begins to mediate, "Why don't we…" Interrupted by a knock at the door, he finishes his sentence, "…answer the door." Davy smiles at the welcome distraction.

Peter swings the door open to find Phaedra's smiling face. Immediately he feels the stress of the room draining from his body as his arms wrap around her. "Hiya, beautiful. Come on in. We're just practicing...and arguing. You can be our referee."

Mike feels a twinge in the pit of his stomach noticing the pair's hug lasted longer than normal. 'Is it me or am I imagining a sudden spark. I wonder when this started? What exactly is going on between those two? Why does this bother me? Am I angry with Phaedra or Peter? Or both?' Loads of questions without solid answers, as he shakes himself back to the impending conversation.

"Uh, yeah…I think I'll pass on that offer. I just can't see refereeing being fun without a mud pit." Weary to enter the pad, she steps in and makes her way over to guys with Peter's arm still wrapped around her waist.

"Listen, I'm sorry to interrupt your rehearsal slash cock fight guys, but I found this flyer at the music store."

With a chuckle, "That's alright luv…we need to take a break." Davy assures her with a kiss to her cheek. Phaedra flashes the Brit a flirtatious grin.

Phaedra hands the paper to slowly melting Mike. He accepts the paper and reads the it aloud.

MUSICAL SHOWCASE

May 21st & 22nd

TOP 25 BANDS CHOSEN TO PERFORM

ALL MUSICAL GENRES ACCEPTED

Send Demo* recording with three (3) musical arrangements by April 30th to:

Fine Image Productions

Attn.: Kirby Forrester

121 Stockton Rd.

Suite 2002

Los Angeles, CA 90001

NO PHONE CALLS PLEASE

Please note if chosen, you will be notified by phone by May 6th

*Demos will not be returned without SASE

"Wow! Are you kidding me? Thanks for bringing this over. April 30th? Sure doesn't give us much time, does it?" Mike feels a little defeated.

"I know it's tight, but I heard through the grapevine, record labels are invited to attend." She catches the boys' attention.

"Michael, we can't afford to pass this up. Labels? A chance for industry exposure?" Peter interjects.

"THIS COULD BE OUR BIG BREAK!" Micky bounces startling the room with his outburst.

"At this point, we've got nothing to lose. So, I say we go for it." Mike smiles with resolution. The boys begin to chatter with excitement. Mike and Micky found themselves hugging. With an exchange of smiles, all is forgiven.

Peter reaches around his female pal for an embrace. Mike again gives the couple a befuddled look. Strangely enough no one else seemed to give a second thought to the affection between the pair. 'Huh!'

"Since we seem to be taking a well-needed break. Anyone hungry? I could whip up some lunch?" Peter moves enthusiastically towards the kitchen.

Phaedra's face turned to horror, "Noooo. I've tried your cooking before."

Peter shoots her a hurt look, "Hey!"

"Oh please, my experience with your cream of root beer soup can only be summed up as a gastrointestinal apocalypse. My bathroom plumbing has never been the same. Let alone my internal plumbing. Face it. You are a biological disaster waiting to happen."

Peter stood with his mouth agape as his friends lost control over the female's confession.

"Fine. I'll never cook again."

"Don't toy with our emotions Peter." Phaedra deadpanned. Mike shakes his head with tears of laughter streaming down the tall man's face. He gently slaps the stunned bassist on the back with sympathy.

The snickering and jabs continued for several minutes until Micky finally gains control over the conversation with a suggestion, "How about we go to Paco's Tacos?"

"Sounds good." Peter shakes off the insults to surrender all of his culinary ambitions for good Mexican food.

The five friends walk down the beach towards the boardwalk as the conversation flowed.

"So…you coming to our gig at the Groovy Zoo?" Micky inquires.

"Of course. Would I miss my boys playing? I, and my shovel expect the complete VIP treatment."

"Your shovel?" Mike piques with interest.

"Yes. The shovel I'm going to whip out to beat off all of the women who just want use you for your bodies."

"Don't bring the shovel. For the love of god, I beg you." Micky grins at his friend. In response, the girl sputters out a hearty chuckle and pops him on the back of the head.

After lunch, Peter decided to walk Phaedra home. While Mike, Davy and Micky headed back to the beach house.

After a time into their stroll towards home, Mike broke the trio's silence, "Is it me? Or is there something seriously going on between Peter and Phaedra?" Davy and Micky answer in unison, "Oh yeah!" Michael grumbles a few inaudible words of disdain.

In the opposite direction, the pair approach the Phaedra's bungalow, Peter warms over with an overwhelming sense of dread. The thought washes over him, weeks have passed and neither of them spoke about the mind-blowing kiss they shared. The musician suspects that it's just a heat of the moment occurrence and she probably forgot all about it. Peter flashes one of his special smiles only reserved for a select few trying to hide the awkwardness building inside him. Unsure how to bring up the subject, Peter leans down and gently kisses her cheek lingering for a moment. Slowly, the boy pulls back his head to look at the reason for his arousal. She meets his penetrating stare, both frozen by what they see. The girl's emerald eyes tell him everything he ever wanted to know about her desires. Without hesitation the couple's mouths crash as their bodies connect with fire. He parts her lips with a demanding tongue drawing out her breath so deeply that she gasps for air. She slides her fingers on the outside of his thighs brushing them over his butt dragging her nails up his back. He moans as his cock hardens from her touch. As the kisses continue to deepen, Peter's hands explore the dancer's body finding their way up her skirt. Suddenly Phaedra breaks the moment, "Peter! Not here." The man glances around realizing the building attention that surrounds the couple on the beach.

She guides Peter inside to her room reminding him that her roommate is gone for the entire night. As the bedroom door slams shut, bodies and lips collide with a magnetic force. Their tongues begin to explore every bit of exposed flesh available. Phaedra claws at Peter's clothing unbuttoning most of the man's shirt and then yanks it open sending the remaining missed buttons scattering across the floor. She explores his toned chest with her soft lips moaning with need. Pushing the eager girl against the wall, open hands move over her breasts. She arches her back as the blouse and skirt are roughly ripped away. Peter is usually a gentle lover but a primal need washes over him as he watches the voluptuous body beneath writhe with pleasure. He drops to his knees pulling off the wet panties with force making both of them cry out. The horny man parts the muscular legs and buries his face into the center of the woman's pleasure. She is already dripping with need. Peter parts the lips of her pussy slowly massaging her clit with calculated licks. She slides down the wall slightly grabbing his head to pull him closer to deepen the penetration. The petite blonde begins to rock back and forth on the tongue that darts in and out making her shiver with an unbridled desire. He lifts his eyes to watch her slowly lose control. The sight of his girl sent shivers directly to his dick.

Phaedra's breath is unsteady breaking the quiet with a whimper, "Oh my god, Peter. Uhhh…more. Please, I need more. Give me more."

Peter slides a finger inside of her, then a second and a third. He flicks his tongue over her clit faster and faster. She moves her body up and down on his fingers. He guides in the remaining two digits. She moves fast and furiously pushing his hand deeper inside as he curls and circles his five fingers. Feeling the lover's body stiffen, he pulls out his fingers taunting the horny girl. With a wicked smile, Peter goes back to tongue fucking her, knowing she is about to come undone.

Within seconds, she squeals, "AHH GAWD, PETER!" Phaedra's body jolts as her body releases a violent orgasm. He slowly licks her clean and kisses his way up her body stopping to remove that pesky bra blocking his need. Suckling and biting at her nipples with a natural instinct to feed from them, the man slips his hands over her buttocks and squeezes.

Peter moves upward to stand over the beautiful woman. Eyes locking, the man places a hand on each side of the gentle face staring and connects their foreheads before speaking, "I need you so bad. I never wanted someone the way I want you. I don't know when this started but I can't make it stop. I don't want it to stop. I think about you all of the time."

"I think about you all of the time, too. I want you so much, it hurts." With these words, Peter lifts the small-framed body and lays the girl onto the bed. While removing his constricting pants, she cannot help but stare at the taut body that moves toward her.

He crawls up the bed hovering over her tender figure. Phaedra opens her legs sliding them around his waist to pull him down offering herself. She needs to feel his hard on. She begins to rub her hips adding friction to his aching member. "Tell me what you burn for, what you need and how you crave to come inside me. I want you to fill me Peter with every inch you."

"NGGHH! I'm begging to be inside of your pussy. I need you so bad Phaedra. I want you so bad." The friction between their bodies becomes critical.

"I'm yours, you know. I'm all yours."

Peter needs no further urging. He thrusts his dick into the woman's hot wet pussy. She takes him ravenously. With a grunt, he knew this wasn't going to last long. She was too tight and his dick was too sensitive with need.

He watches the untamed lover push herself down to deepen the penetration and begins to circle her pelvis groaning and gasping with desire as the blonde bassist plunges in and out, "Phaedra…you feel amazing…Ahhh, shit…baby, you're so amazing."

"Make me come Peter." The couple rolls over allowing her to top. Phaedra takes control wildly riding the man below her. The aroused boy watches her every move. Her hips move hypnotically swallowing every inch of his hardness with her breasts bouncing up and down. The pleasure is overwhelming, both of them grunting and gasping words that make no sense.

He sits up bending his knees in order to intensify the feeling. Moving quicker and quicker, her fingernails dig deep into his back leaving a trail of scratch marks. Peter's tongue moves up her neck until their lips meet. They kiss with open eyes, not wanting to miss a moment.

"Oh, I'm coming Peter. Harder! Please, fuck me harder!" The vixen pleads as she places her legs over his shoulders gripping his arms. Peter increases his movements burying himself.

Clenching the muscles around her lover's cock, Phaedra shrieks as she begins to orgasm, setting off a chain reaction. Peter's balls tighten. He grips her tightly to his body slamming into the tightness. He releases himself deep inside her hot channel, pounding over and over. The ecstasy sends waves between the pair ending the climax with a tender kiss.

Phaedra's legs move back to her partner's sides. He collapses back onto the bed pulling her down on top of him. Peter continues to lustfully tangle his tongue with hers allowing himself to slide out.

Phaedra nestles her head into his chest with deep thoughts, 'Can this really be happening? Could it be possible that he cares for me? How did this happen? Is this just a one-time thing? I wish I knew what he was thinking. Please don't let me go now that I have you.'

Holding her tightly, he begins to stroke her hair and whispers, "I'm yours too."

Phaedra body fills with happiness. The lovers gaze at each other without uttering a word. No words needed to be said before they fell asleep entwined.

The grandfather clock in the living room struck two am. Peter hated to leave but Phaedra understood, kind of. Arriving home at breakfast would result in a serious ribbing from his band mates, but why not just take the teasing?

She walks him to the door. The pair embraces and shares one last passionate exchange. Neither wants to part. It feels too good. He breaks away and takes a few steps away only to turn back for another kiss. "I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Okay…Do you have to go? You could just stay, here, with me."

"I know. I want to stay too but you know I can't." He breaks away and heads down the beach. Phaedra kicks the patio chair and enters the house.

Peter realizes the walk back to the pad takes a lot longer when exhausted. He quietly enters the house and re-locks the door behind himself not realizing the presence watching. Peter kicks off his shoes trying not to wake his roommates and heads into the bedroom.

"A little late aren't we? A voice questions from the darkness.

Peter jumps, "Shit. You scared me! You're still up?"

"Do you know what happens to little boys that come home past their curfew?" Mike sits up in bed.

"Curfew? Oh. Ha! Ha"

"Sorry… So, talk to me Pete. What's going on with the two of you? Is it serious?" He presses.

"Nothing. We're just friends. I like talking to her. She gets me and I get her." Peter doesn't know why he feels the need to fib. Mike is his friend…his best friend. He cares about his opinion and how it affects him. There is just something keeping him from telling Mike. 'Why?'

Michael huffs lying back down on his bed, "Fine. Don't tell me. Stupid me, I thought we're friends."

"What?"

"You really think it's a good idea? Phaedra is our friend. What if it all goes sour?" Mike cuts back.

"Nothing bad is going to happen. Do you take pleasure in sucking the air out of the room? Why do you even care? Are you capable of just being happy for someone?"

That last comment cut Mike deep. Peter realizes how hurtful his words must of sound. The friend leans over to touch Mike's shoulder, "Mike…"

But he is cut off, "Night, Peter."

Pete withdraws his hand from the burn of coldness, moves to his bed and plops onto his pillow, whispering, "Good night Mike."

Without the knowledge of the arguing friends, a shadowy figure listened to the boys. Once silence stills the air, she moves throughout the house. The heat is thick as the crazy woman opens all of the doors and windows around her. As the room cools, the girl helps herself to the leftovers in the refrigerator. She places Mr. Schneider at the table and sets a plate in front of the dummy. "Eat up Mr. Schneider. I need you keep up your energy to watch over my boyfriend."

Leaving behind dirty plates, the girl collects Micky's drumsticks and a few guitar picks and leaves the house humming a happy tune.

After a full night, morning creeps over the beach. The salt air and breeze blows through the musician's home.

Micky shoots up out of his sleep. He looks around at a home where nothing is right. Out of breath, the frightened boy notices their bedroom door and window open.

Panicking, Micky releases a scream, "WHAT THE FUCK!" bolting each of his friends out of bed.

What the fuck, indeed.


End file.
